


Examon: Origins

by Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine



Series: in the air of the earth we are home [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Dorumon evolves, Gen, Minor Violence, POV Second Person, Storytelling, Traveling, War, but v-mon and chibimon are siblings, its not shown much but it is mentioned, just two of them go through many forms, keep yourself safe my dudes!, so if you can't handle that maybe don't read this!, take care of yourself!, theres only actually three characters, they just go a lot of places for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine/pseuds/Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine
Summary: The beginnings of the Dragon Emperor, from two hearts to one.
Relationships: Slayerdramon & Examon, Slayerdramon & Petitmon, she's their mom guys
Series: in the air of the earth we are home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694707
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Examon: Origins

**Author's Note:**

> this is a bit of an older drabble from a while back, but i like it so yeet  
> this series that it's in will just be for drabbles in the same universe that i make when not working on the miracles verse or some of my other bigger projects
> 
> also the tags might sound a bit snobby or sarcastic but i mean them genuinely, please do take care of your mental health! if mentions of war are harmful to you, i advise that you don't read this; it's not described in too much detail but i'd rather be safe than sorry

Your life begins, as any life begins, with the hatching of an egg. You tumble out of the hard shell as a small, cyan little ball, with tiny wings tucked against your sides and two horns ending in red tips, with a band of black before the red, the only thing keeping you upright being a single small red, clawed foot. You are a Petitmon, newly hatched, and you are surrounded by other dragon-digimon in the hilled plains that the dragon Digimon reside in. 

  
  


You grow, like everyone does. You learn as you get older. There are other dragon Digimon around you, as there have been since your birth. There are a few Digimon of the same evolution line that you’ll follow - mostly Coredramon, blue or green, but mostly green. You are one of the few Petitmon to have hatched that year, and any Babydmon or Dracomon have already evolved. Still, the Coredramon - and occasional Groundramon or Wingdramon - are kind to you, as are the rest of the dragon Digimon. They tell you stories, tales of adventure and battles and sad but needed heroic sacrifices. 

  
  


There is a legend, tells a Slayerdramon, weary from travel but still willing to share with the tiny dragon sitting on her lap. She speaks to you slowly, voice rough with having been unused in her travels, light glinting off of her chrome digizoid armor - but she speaks to you, gentle despite the catches in her throat and the way the words tell of the pain of a voice being used all of a sudden. She tells you that long, long ago, there was a great ruler, an Emperor, of all the dragons. The legend said that the Emperor was the supposed final evolution of any Petitmon, and that the Emperor was respected and loved by their people, but feared by their enemies. Slayerdramon pauses then, and tells you that you should sleep, as it is getting late - and she is not wrong. The sky darkens around you, and the stars are making themselves known. You agree to sleep, but beg her to continue her story in the morning. She laughs, with a smile on her face, and agrees.

  
  


The dawn arrives with the rustling of hundreds of wings and tails and limbs as the dragons of the hilled valley wake. You wake as well, stretching your tiny wings and single little foot, black eyes blinking open. Slayerdramon has been awake long before you - instincts of a fighter, rising at dawn. She gently lifts you onto her head, to see the sunrise, and as you settle into the spot on her armor between her horns, she continues her story.

  
  


The legends state that there had been a third evolution branch for Dracomon, many many years ago - a yellow Coredramon, she tells you, the both of you still looking at the sky, her green cape fluttering gently. The name of the Perfect-level form of this evolution line has been lost to time, if the Digimon even existed at all, she says, but the legends say that the Slayerdramon species had evolved from that unnamed Perfect-level digimon, while Wingdramon would have evolved to the Emperor from the same legends she speaks of. Legend says, she tells you, that the third branch of Coredramon was not a proper evolution branch but rather the result of a Dracomon with data in between that of a blue or green Coredramon, leading to its altered evolution path. Slayerdramon says to you that the Emperor was of an altered path as well, having gained data of Breakdramon between their evolution from Wingdramon and their form then, and that the Slayerdramon that evolved from the yellow Coredramon was not a proper Slayerdramon at all, but one with less green malachite in their data as they should have had.

  
  


So goes the legend, that the third Coredramon line died out as a result of Dracomon eventually becoming fond of either blue diamante or green malachite, those with a near balance between the two eventually becoming nonexistent. Wingdramon’s true Ultimate form was then Slayerdramon, as more Wingdramon began to evolve without the presence of the malachite in their data. The Emperor died eventually, she tells you, saying that should a Slayerdramon and Breakdramon merge their data, perhaps there could be another of the species once again.

  
  


For a few moments it is silent. Then Slayerdramon laughs, saying how it is a silly story, is it not? You tell her that you think it was an interesting story. You liked it, after all. She only hums in response, eventually saying that even if the legends are true, no one knows what the Emperor means by the “merging of data”. She mutters something under her breath, and you chirp in a question, and she shakes her head - after putting you down in her lap - and sighs. She says it’s nothing to worry about, just her own musings. The two of you continue on the day.

  
  


Somehow, you end up getting attached to Slayerdramon. It isn’t that there’s some problem with the many other Digimon in your home - just that she is, well, one of the few Ultimate-level Digimon of your natural evolution line, and it is written into the code of the Baby I and Baby II-level Digimon to stick close to those that are Ultimate-level for protection. Also, Slayerdramon has been kind to you and has listened to your questions and chirps and thoughts. You think that she is kind, like a mother should be. One day you call her “kaa-sama” by almost-accident - she stares at you a second, before giggling and deciding that if she’s going to be your mother, then she’ll be the best mother she can be. 

  
  


There is another Petitmon that the two of you stumble upon. They are around your age, maybe a day older. The two of you greet each other with a chirp, while your newly-appointed mother shrugs to herself and picks them up as well. That’s how the two of you end up nestling next to each other in the space on her silver helmet between her two upwards-curving horns, as she tells you various tales of her travels, or random bits of wisdom, or simply stories that she weaves from nothing but starshine and memories. You and the other Petitmon become close, as two adopted children traveling with their single mother on some adventure or other across the continent tend to be. 

  
  


You both evolve at the same time. It is dusk, and Slayerdramon has sat and laid down for the night, the two of you held to her chest by a single hand. Her eyes look at the both of you, emotion of some kind in them. Your sibling chirps, and you chirp back, and the soft white glow of evolution surrounds the both of you. You evolve to Babydmon with no fanfare - it is late, after all. You now have green scales and purple eyes, wings moved to the sides of your body's and yellow-orange plated belly scales, horns still black with red tips but now having a branch near the top, and long blue-white hairs that make a tail. Still, you and your sibling - now Babydmon as well - congratulate each other, before the both of you go to sleep, Slayerdramon chuckling at your antics before pulling you both closer to her armored chest again, into the small nook between chest and shoulder. 

  
  


You wake up at dawn, as the three of you are used to now. Slayerdramon gets to her feet, makes sure the both of you are comfortable in your positions - now resting on one of her shoulders each, as the both of you are too big to fit on her head - and she continues moving. There isn’t anywhere in particular that the three of you are going. Just somewhere. You all help where you can - Slayerdramon does most of the heavier work, while you and Babydmon cheer up those you can with your antics, and provide what comfort you can to the littler ones, and sometimes the bigger ones. The three of you must have traveled halfway across the continent by now. You've gone through a desert and chilled mountains at the least, so the three of you are far from the place of you and Babydmon’s birth.

  
  


Eventually, you and Babydmon evolve again. This time it is at noon, and you’ve just finished eating your lunch. Once again there is little fanfare, just the white light of evolution and then a new form. You and your sibling are about twice as big as you were as Petitmon, scales the same cyan shade as your Baby I forms had been, with horns branching like your Babydmon forms had had, only now your horns are completely red. You have red eyes, and small arms with three white clawed fingers, and slightly chubbier legs that also have three clawed toes. Your wings are still small, and are now on your back, and are the same red as your horns. The lower part of your jaw and your belly is the same white shade as your claws, and you have a tail. 

  
  


To celebrate, Slayerdramon sets your sibling and you down in a small hole of sorts she hurriedly digs, wandering off for a few minutes before returning with a small fruit. She claims it is an apple. You haven’t had one of these fruits yet, but you bite into it, and it tastes good. Your sibling receives one of the green fruits as well, and the two of you thank your mother, before taking a nap. Evolution is still a tiring process, especially for the smaller, younger levels.

  
  


You and Dracomon and Slayerdramon start to become known. Not very much, but enough that occasionally a Digimon will mention how they’d heard of the Slayerdramon and her two Dracomon, that went wandering around on the continent and helping out whenever, for whatever reason. It’s not really a bad thing. At least other Digimon know not to be mean to you, since you’re helping them.

  
  


You meet a DORUmon one day. It’s misty, and the weather has been abysmal, pouring rain down on you and Dracomon and Slayerdramon. The three of you stumble into the DORUmon by accident. She falls, as does the V-mon behind her, and she nearly drops the Chibimon in her arms before she can help it. Slayerdramon and Dracomon and you apologize, and she apologizes as well. Slayerdramon tells her that the three of you have been traveling, offering help where you can. DORUmon, drenched and shivering, quietly asks if she and her two little brothers can have some of that help. Slayerdramon is all too eager to agree. 

  
  


There is nothing resembling a shelter nearby, so Slayerdramon sets about digging some sort of burrow near the roots of a particularly large tree. You and your sibling are too small to do much to help, but you do both scratch at the smaller bits that Slayerdramon can’t reach - her armor restricting her movement somewhat - and you both help DORUmon dry off Chibimon, the smallest one, who is wet and shivering. Soon enough, the burrow is deep enough that all of you are able to escape the rain. There are gemstones in the earth - Slayerdramon smiles at you and Dracomon fondly and tells you that she’d come to this place so that the both of you would have been able to dig up the gems yourself, but she figures that this is the next best thing.

  
  


The gemstones are either blue or green. Your sibling happily chews on the blue rocks, while you prefer to chew at the green ones. The gemstones are rather tasty. 

  
  


The downpour continues still. Slayerdramon digs deeper into the earth as the rains continue, digging down for some while and then up. She says to you that if need be she’ll dig another tunnel to the surface as an alternate exit should the first flood. You and your sibling continue to eat the gemstones in between sleeping. None of you thought to bring much food with you, so for a while all of you sleep, hoping to avoid hunger. Eventually V-mon discovers a vegetable that Slayerdramon calls a potato. It tastes well enough, but you and Dracomon are drawn to the gemstones still, and snack on the rocks rather than anything else.

  
  


DORUmon asks about it. Slayerdramon tells her that it’s just a natural part of any Dracomon’s code.

  
  


On what must be the fifth day, the tunnel starts to flood like Slayerdramon had worried. She is digging to get back to the surface, but the six of you are all in rather deep, and she is made to fight and not to dig. You do not remember moving, but you remember white filling your vision, and then you are bigger. Your claws are yours, and your legs and arms are stronger than they were. You dig and dig and dig, and you are better built for digging than your mother is despite her efforts. Your sibling - Coredramon, your mind supplies - helps as well, even if their arms are not quite as good at digging, as does DORUmon, who seems desperate to get to the surface for the safety of her brothers.

  
  


The surface is wet and cold, but you and Coredramon and Slayerdramon and DORUmon and V-mon and Chibimon all somehow stumble to an elevated rock outcropping which saves you from the worst of the rain. You examine your sibling and yourself there.

  
  


You both are taller, and more muscular than you had been. There is a single long red horn on top of your nose, and your horns now have three spiked branches. Your wings are bigger, with a thin layer of white skin between the three “fingers” that they possess, and the wings themselves are now the same color as the rest of your scales. There is a line of red spikes going down both of your spines - really, the only difference is that your scales are green while your sibling’s are blue. Your arms are a bit more muscular, while their wings are a bit more developed, but overall you are the same. 

  
  


The rains end soon. DORUmon thanks the three of you. She says how she is glad to have had some help, and that she will follow your example and protect others however she can. She, too, glows with evolution, and then she is a DORUgamon. Her fur is darker, and she has wings now. She nods at the three of you, picks up her two brothers, and flies off. 

  
  


You and Coredramon and Slayerdramon keep moving. Moving and helping, digging tunnels and flying others to places and fighting off the occasional attacker or two. It is a nice life. In time you and your sibling evolve again, as is natural. You become a Groundramon - the horn on your nose points forwards, and your wings have become larger muscled hands to dig with, long claws looking intimidating, and there is an iron ball at the end of your tail with spikes on it. Your gait is now one of a four-legged dragon rather than a two-legged on, but you do not mind much.

  
  


Your sibling becomes a Wingdramon. Their tail is much longer, and their horns point upwards more, and there is a metal mask on their face. Their wings are wide and curving, and do not look like they can fold inwards at all. There is also a missile of sorts attached to their back. Their claws are now the same color as their horns, and their underbelly is a lighter blue.

  
  


Slayerdramon once again congratulates you both. The two of you only say that it is natural, but thank her regardless. 

  
  


There is still more traveling to be done. On a whim, Wingdramon tries to fly with you in their arms. The hardest part is carrying you in a grip that does not drop you, but once that is done flight is easy, since Wingdramon’s wings cancel gravity itself and lends easily to flying. You and Wingdramon and Slayerdramon continue to travel and to offer what help you can. You all move slower, because you are not as fast with your four-legged stance, but though Slayerdramon and Wingdramon could easily speed ahead and wait for you, they lower their speed to walk alongside you. It is touching, and you are more grateful for words.

  
  


Eventually, you end up in a familiar looking valley. It has been almost thirteen years, but it is the same valley that you and Wingdramon used to sleep in and roam in. The other dramon say nothing of your altered appearances, nor your age - they only welcome you and Slayerdramon home. 

  
  


It is good to be home.

  
  


You and Wingdramon and Slayerdramon all help where you can, because it is a good thing to do, and it is always important to help strengthen your community and your home. You and Wingdramon have been raised into goodness. Perhaps it is why you are so kind, despite being a virus. Though, there are more than a few virus-attribute Digimon in your home valley who are still as kind, and several vaccine-attribute who are less kind, so you think that the stereotypes are never correct. 

  
  


You get bored and dig some tunnels for the Petitmon and Chicomon and Botamon to play in, for the Chibimon and Babydmon and Tunomon and Hopmon and Missimon and all sorts of baby dragons and the like to play in. Never too deep, because you don’t want them to get lost. It is nice to feel the dirt underneath of your claws, though. 

  
  


You want to get moving. You love your place of birth, but you have seen mountains and deserts and tundras and you miss that sense of adventure, the crisp clean air of a place not well known. Wingdramon agrees with you when you ask them. You both tell Slayerdramon this - she only shakes her head and laughs, and says that the both of you are most certainly her children. You leave with farewells from the Ultimates that stay in the valley, from the Perfects and the Adults and the Childs and all the younger ones. It is never easy to leave, but you and Wingdramon both love your life of travel and adventure and helping others, and so you must.

  
  


More years pass. You don’t know how long it is, but it must be at least five. You and Wingdramon are sure to return to the Valley of Dragons, never staying long but always offering help. You stumble across a DORUgamon - in a twist of fate it happens to be that same DORUgamon that you met when you and Wingdramon had only just been Coredramon. She laughs and says that she has been doing well when you ask, and when asked you and your sibling reply the same. She proudly shares that Chibimon had evolved to a V-mon now, and that she is close to evolving to a Perfect level like the two of you are. Slayerdramon says that she and her brothers will always be welcome. You part ways, promising to meet again some day.

  
  


More travel. The land becomes unsettled. Rumors of war breaking out, rumors of other Digimon who are less tolerant of dragons. You and Wingdramon hope it is only rumors. Slayerdramon advises you to not get your hopes up, and to prepare for the worst, just in case. Her armor has been kept in good shape all these years, as has her segmented firey sword and green cape. She speaks with experience. You hope, and Wingdramon hopes, but there is a feeling of dread that grows each day as you come to witness villages burned, Child and Adult-levels telling of their lucky escapes. 

  
  


You and Wingdramon are separated from Slayerdramon at some point. You cant remember when, but it terrifies you. Wingdramon worries. You worry also. Both of you hope that she is okay. You keep moving, because there are too many who need help and not enough willing to give help where it is needed. Along the way you run into some hostile Digimon, cruel creatures that charge at you relentlessly no matter what. The first few skirmishes, you and Wingdramon manage to lose your attackers.

  
  


The next one is the fight you remember best, for all the wrong reasons. It is a couple of Cerberumon who attack you and your sibling, and the Perfect-level digimon, despite being the same level as your sibling and you, are stronger. They have had more hatred to fuel their attacks, and you can hardly hear their called attacks over your sibling’s screams of pain. You might have been screaming as well, but the sight of your sibling, bleeding and seconds away from a bite to the throat, makes something inside of you  _ snap _ . 

  
  


White fills your vision and then you are bigger again, and your body creaks with the sound of shifting metal. Your arms have become shovels and your neck is long and you have two tails with drills at the end. You  _ scream _ and attack the Cerberumon with all that you have. There is more white and then your sibling stands in front of you, in silver chrome armor and a segmented blazing sword in their hand and a green cape billowing behind them in the wind. You scream at them, and you ask why they should stop you from killing the ones who would have killed them?

  
  


Slayerdramon, your sibling, your little sibling who you would do anything for, looks you in the eyes and asks you if this is what you want. They plead with you, and you freeze, and slowly the two of you walk towards each other. They're crying, and though you no longer have tear ducts you feel like you could be crying. Time becomes a blur for a short while, as all you know is that you’re hugging Slayerdramon and Slayerdramon is hugging you. You both stay like that for a while until your mother, the older Slayerdramon in battered armor, finds the two of you. She says nothing, only hugs you both. You don’t remember what happened to the Cerberumon. You think you killed one of them.

  
  


The three of you are moving again. You have to. There is war brewing, and you and your sibling are Ultimate-level now, and it’s your job to help protect the little ones. You’ve made names for yourselves, the ones to go to for any help needed, regardless of what kind of Digimon you are. Dragon Digimon - dramon - especially.

  
  


At some point you remember the legends that your mother told you when you had been a Petitmon. You bring it up and joke about it a bit. Slayerdramon-who-had-been-Petitmon has been told the story as well, and laughs with you. Your mother laughs as well, saying how if only legends were real, if only they knew what the Emperor meant. 

  
  


Slayerdramon suggests that maybe they meant a jogress, the merging of two digicores of a Digimon - not a well known process, but there were a few species that were a result of it, such as Paildramon and Dinobeemon. You agree that it is possible, but that legends are still only legends. Your sibling agrees with you on that as well.

  
  


Time passes. Battles are fought. Blood is spilled and metal scraps fall to the ground and you and your sibling and your mother refuse to let the Fields of Dragons be overrun by those who would kill innocents. 

  
  


It has been almost two and a half years since you and Slayerdramon evolved. There is a decisive battle soon. Your mother gives you and your sibling one last hug before she goes to the front lines - her experience is needed. Your sibling is not at the very front, but is further up than you are, with your fissure-creating limbs and slow movement but devastating power.

  
  


The battle begins chaotically, and soon there is no order at all as attacks are called and launched. You have no idea where your family is. At some point DORUgamon - now a DORUguremon - intercepts a hit meant for you with one of her own attacks. In thanks you create a fissure under the attacker, and as they fall more enemies swarm towards you. You grow tired, but you do not let up. There is a battle to be fought. 

  
  


Your sibling soon ends up besides you, their Fragarach sword cutting into enemies with each swing, the three honed and mastered forms of the sword being put into full use in battle. Your  _ Destroyed Rush _ splits the ground underneath dozens of enemies, while their  _ Tenryūzanha _ bisects several from their skulls to their legs. The pressure and heat from Slayerdramon’s  _ Shouryūzanpa _ forces emenies into the path of your  _ Infinity Boring _ , and while Slayerdramon slices apart a Centalmon coming at you from behind with  _ Kouryūzanba _ , you slam down on the Devimon attempting to stab at them with  _ Gravity Press _ .

They stumble. You take another hit. The enemies around you are numerous, and in the thick of the battle like you are there is little room for error. You are tired, and you can see that they are. The both of you reach for each other, because neither of you can imagine a life without the other, and the battle is raging on and you can tell that it is likely that both of you will have done nothing but give up your lives for those you’re keeping safe. The battle rages on, and it is hard, and merciless, and there are still smaller, weaker, younger dramon left to protect- 

  
  


The blinding white glow of evolution surrounds both of you.

  
  


When you open your eyes again, you are - different. You are bigger than you were. You look for your sibling, Slayerdramon- Breakdramon - no-

  
  


Something is different. You are bigger than you were, much bigger. Your scales are red, while plated belly scales of white, and your wings are large and made of red digiziod and silver chrome digizoid plating, and your tail is half of your body length alone. There are two large horns on either side of your head, gold capping them, and spikes on your shoulders, and smaller red digiziod wings extending from either arm. Three clawed, white clawed hands, gold tips on the claws, three clawed white clawed toes with gold tips as well. A large horn atop your nose, several smaller horns, and a line of horns down your back until the first eighth of your tail. 

  
  


There is a long, black lance held in your right hand, red accenting the very end of it, two long prongs sticking out at the end. Some kind of box, for placement of what looks like bullets.

  
  


There is a resonance in your mind. You remember the legend and realize that  _ oh _ . You cannot find Slayerdramon because you  _ are _ Slayerdramon. You cannot find Breakdramon because you  _ are _ Breakdramon. You are them, and they are you. 

  
  


The battle, stilled for a few moments by those who have seen you, is still being fought. You thrust forwards your lance -  _ Ambrosius _ , Ambrosius is its name - and a brilliant light shines for the briefest of moments before a laser bursts forth from the muzzle of the gun portion of the gunstick. “ _ Pendragon’s glory _ .” You snarl, the name of the attack flowing to your lips, and your shadow towers over your enemies. Those who have not noticed you do now, as your attack tears through their ranks.

  
  


You do not roar. You are a dragon, and your vocal chords are meant for purring and chirping and hissing. Your vocal chords are not meant for roars. Instead, you open your mouth and  _ scream _ . It is not a roar. But it is a convincing replica. 

  
  


Those who remain turn tail and flee. You hiss at them, ending with a snarl, and you glare at them as they retreat. Then, and only then, do you look down at the many dramon that are left on the battlefield. They look at you, uncertain, scared. 

  
  


You hate that they look at you like that.

  
  


You croon to them, carefully laying down Ambrosius somewhere that it will not harm them. Slowly, you sit, legs folded in front of you and tail loosely wrapped around them. Cautiously, the first brave few approach. When you do nothing to harm them, the dams break. Pulled by instinct the many dragons all but throw themselves onto you. You steady yourself as they do so. Your wings - Caledfwlch, your large, red digizoid, sentient wings - wrap around yourself and the dramon, loose enough to allow enough room for escape should it be desired. 

  
  


One of the dramon who approaches you is Slayerdramon, the one who was and is your mother. She stands next to one of your eyes, her red eyes looking into your own green ones. She asks what your name is.

  
  


You look at her. Then you look down, at all the dramon sitting on your scales or claws, at all the dramon in the valley and fields behind you who look at you in awe.

  
  


“I am the Emperor of Dragons.” You say. “I am Examon.”

**Author's Note:**

> well this was fun!  
> it started as a "haha imagine if you were a dracomon" little thought i said to my friend, but it accidentally grew into a drabble. so i fleshed out the drabble, and this is the result, and honestly? it's good. i like it


End file.
